Poems Root

POETRY 6 POETRY COMPETITION CONTENDERS WRITING WITH LIGHT A shadow in a shadow in my eye, A shimmer on the edges of my sight, Quiet colour in the palette of the sky, Spirits which suffuse and are not bright, Sparse images be signs to mark the way For silent powers to infiltrate and burn For fascinating ghosts to illustrate The threads which crowded surfaces inter. Discern, discriminate and then discard Glare to draw lucidity from light By speaking sparely in my photographs

About the numina of dark and light. Irridescent animalia gleam In darkness and illumine dark in me. THE JOURNEY - I, the father, you, the son, Through man's small soul, A needle's hole, The journey to each other has begun. - Into an empty room I am become, Announced, anointed, prophesied, To walk in desert, death beside, I, the world, and you, the sun. - Be worldly, otherworldly boy. Be lithe, be blithe, beloved son. Be grave, be graceful as you run Across rocks to Calvary - I have run into tomorrow. Passion rises like a tide

And Death rises with a rhythmic stride. Father, be near me now. - Be quick, be still, be overcome, Being still forever run Across the world into the sun. The journey to each other has begun. STALINGRAD SNIPER This city has the name of the boss, Steel city, iron cross. Myself alone, a living rock, Unstringing Germans shot by shot. Steel city, wire rope. Who enters here abandons hope. God's bureaucrats are in my scope. How many divisions has the pope? A quick quietus as they hear me Is my gift if they come near me. They cannot touch me and revere me. Let them hate me if they fear me.

I hate their life. I hate their death. I hate them and their dying breath. I hate the hate itself. Now rest. I'm dead.You're dead.We're dead.They're dead. Sail in stealth in ghostly shrieks Across the Volga and the Styx. Ruins recede. Sight is thick. Steel city, jagged brick. AUSCHWITZ-BIRKENAU My photo shows a big grey sky, Woods at the end of a railway line And where people were divided by SS. In trees exploded ruins lie. Cold grief hangs in the summer air And cold revenge for taking where Demonic things were done. There's Not peace, but cold suspense of war. There's not words becoming men To speak the adequate revenge. In space made by appeasing man

Evil is because it can, But come the man, come the power, Come the angel, come the hour. A MOUNTAINEER FORESEES HIS DEATH Awake on Everest I smell the wind. A dragon wind invades a dream of death, Piles stones around my head and rips my skin, And makes me stone, who smelt his lonely strength. Transfigured in the dream's geography I walk into the circle of the sky, Into the clouds which are my family, Into the wind where fatal dragons fly To fall into the centre of my self, To choose an angle of repose in air, To balance in delight this life this death

To choose this final place because it's there. Clad in what I am, essential, I Am bone, I am stone, I am Mallory. A FAMILY BIRTHDAY IN WINTER IN DEN HAAG Bourgeois Valhalla, brick Benoordenhout Is rich with emblems and foreseen memories, Haunting herons, giant forest owls, The spirit selves of Grace and you and me. In dark and darker days and neon nights Sinisterly zoftig 'sGravenhage Summons shadow armies to the sky Signifying something is to change Or has changed and memory plays tricks. The cold flares up. The wind dies down. Their patina is frozen from the

bricks. The darkest days are crowding round And in this spirit time and place A cackle for your birthday bursts from Grace.

======================== THE JOURNEY 25 Dec 99 - I, the father, you, the son, Through man's small soul, A needle's hole, The journey to each other has begun - Into an empty room I am become, Announced, anointed, prophesied, To walk in deserts, death beside, I, the world, and you the sun. - Be worldly, otherworldly boy. Be lithe, be blithe, beloved son. Be grave, be graceful as you run Across the rocks to Calvary

- I have run into tomorrow. Passion rises like a tide. Death rises with a rhythmic stride. Father, be near me now. - Be quick, be still, be overcome. Forever rest, forever run Across the world into the sun. The journey to each other has begun. WRITING WITH LIGHT A shadow in a shadow in my eye, Spirits who suffuse and are not bright, Quiet colour in the palette of the sky, A shimmer on the edges of my sight, Sparse images be signs to mark the way For silent powers to infiltrate and burn And fascinating ghosts to illustrate The threads which crowded

surfaces inter. Discern, discriminate and then discard Glare and draw lucidity from light By speaking sparely in my photographs About the numina of dark and light And irridescent animalia gleam In darkness and illumine dark in me. STALINGRAD SNIPER Steel city, iron cross. This city has the name of the boss. Myself alone, a living rock, Unstringing Germans shot by shot. Steel city, wire rope. Who enters here abandons hope. God's bureaucrats are in my scope. How many divisions has the pope? A quick quietus as they hear me Is my gift if they come near me. They cannot touch me and revere

me. Let them hate me if they fear me. I hate their life. I hate their death. I hate them and their dying breath. I hate the hate itself. Now rest. I'm dead.You're dead.We're dead.They're dead. I sail in stealth by ghostly shrieks Across the Volga and the Styx. Ruins recede. My sight is thick. Steel city, jagged brick. AUSCHWITZ-BIRKENAU My photo shows a big grey sky, Woods at the end of a railway line And where people were divided by SS. In trees exploded ruins lie. Cold grief hangs in the summer air And cold revenge for taking where Demonic things were done. There's Not peace, but cold suspense of war. There are no words becoming men Finally to solve this war

Or speak an adequate revenge. Come the man. Come the hour. In space made by appeasing man Evil is because it can. A MOUNTAINEER FORESEES HIS DEATH A dragon wind invades my dream of death. It piles stones around my head and rips my skin. It makes me stone, who smelt his lonely strength. Awake on Everest I smell the wind. Transfigured in my dream's geography I walk into the circle of the sky, Into the clouds which are my family, Into the wind where fatal dragons fly And choose this final place because it's there To fall into the centre of my self, And choose an angle of repose in

air, To balance in delight this life and death And clad in what I am, essential, I Am bone, I am stone, I am Mallory. 10 December 2007 Up to a point I like your style, Your noble face and natural grace. Tho thigh boots make me run a mile No mannequin would take your place. I, loved in another time and space, Now serve you with my credit card, And hover in my proper place, Some outer orbit of your heart. I, more eccentric, more elliptical, Twirling, twirling, unperturbed, Less reactive, still as whimsical, But more resigned and more reserved. 'The door is closed.' Well thanks for that. There's 2 sides to a door.

'It's closed. Slam-bang, clunk-click, that's that.' Ok, I get the score. 'The Elements of Style' is sent To signify you're 42. Good luck. I came, I saw, I went. I had no option, unlike you. Lady, laugh at ludicrous anger, Lady, laugh as it all goes smash, Lady, laugh in the face of danger. The element of style's....panache.

ICELAND

What I learnt in Iceland Rhubarb's a stem and not a fruit, Prunes and muesli make you toot, But snorchestras will drown out wind. Allegedly (I'm not convinced) Box jellyfish aren't jellyfish and Greenland is further east than Iceland. A Minister of Elvish Matters Defines the routes of roads and detours. Dottirs and ssons of Irish slaves Kill foxes, whales, whatever moves. But there's a certain charm in grimness, Tax evasion, drunken primness, Real men who smell of fish and semen,

Strapping horses, strapping women. Volcanic science, Car-mangling giants, Fire and ice, I think it's nice.

GRAPPA IN THE BLOOD From a modern hotel on a Norwegian  fjord : "Sun in the eyes ­ grappa in the blood" Confessing to flies ­ sweating a flood Last sheet of bogroll ­ face in a flush Losing your balance ­ life in the bush These are a few of Finn's favourite things And these are the gifts that Namibia  brings. Nature is calling ­ life is a passage Don't poo­poo our offer ­ don't pass by 

our package But pass us your Euros to tour the turd  world With the dusty delight of relieving  yourself At the Norechab No­Star No­Plumbing  Hotel (Ask your guide about spiders and  scorpion as well). BUY GARRY A DRINK Buy him a drink to light and death To choke him with his dying breath The light to light his way to night And death because there's nothing left. Spill the dregs on canvas skins. His duty's done, descent begins Through light to death and death to light.

So spin the wheel and spin him as it spins. TOUPEE OR NOT TOUPEE Toupee or not toupee.That is the question. Whether 'tis nobblier on the mind to plant a rug Of curls and curlicues of artificial hair Or to take ointments 'gainst the curse of slaphead And by anointing end it ? To shine, to comb No more; or with a wig to strike a pose Against the moulting of a thousand natural locks Which make a hairdo - 'tis a flocculation Devoutly to be swished; to dye, to streak. To streak, perchance brylcreem.Aye there's the rub. ACADIA

Acadia, Mansell, Bernard, Beech, Sauveur, Penobscot, Valley Peak, Pemetic, Sargent, Dorr, North Bubble, Gorham, Champlain, Connor Nubble: I banged my head on icy tracks All for the sake of Cadillac. Imagine my concussive shockWe could have driven to the top. Goddamn.

RIGHT ATTENTION Look relaxed, relax your look, Smile quietly under shining skies, Stand loosely where the others walk, See straight into averted eyes. AUDEN in NEW YORK In a dive on 52nd street The English Wystan Auden sat.

Erotic dust was what he knew, But not the Proletariat. Collective Man he'd never met. Imperialism, Democracy Big, windy words and cheap to speak In exile from his poetry. SLICK WILLY A smooth politician from Hope Played greasypole games with his soap. Fairy Liquid was fancy For Ronald and Nancy Slick Willy Palmolives his stroke. GOODBYE, MATHILDE On Scheveningen beach flies up a kite. Mathilde Schnauzer walks at Kirsten's side, The three of us parading at high tide,

Examining an unexamined life. A double rainbow draws a double line Above a progress comic and sublime, Tiptipping thru the world duchesalike And constant in inconstancy of time. Time comes to join the circle round her life, To circumscribe the flirt, the appetite For plumcake and the smelly world outside. Mathilde smells the sea the sand the sky. She came and went and what is left behind Is essence of an unexamined mind . Don't look too close there is a proper time To let the mind evolve and just be quiet.

The kite describes the unexamined wind. The tame is a veneer for what is wild. A child sees her. Mathilde leaves your side, Tiptipping silently towards the child. HELLO, GRACE 22 June 2001 We turned around and there was Grace, Colliding from another place, From inner into middle space, Event horizons in her face, Nothing from nothing, Grace from grace. We turned around and there was us, A fusion made without a fuss With charm and stangeness, down and up, Fertile fundamental stuff, Nothing, nothing, you, me, us.

Guide our marriage and our child Simplify our laws of life. Define our triple interface With the fundamental force of grace.

GOODBYE, HARLEY Harley Hauschildt take this kiss To catty nothingness or bliss. If bliss, know Kirsten's man like this; He knows a cat for what it is. Be leopardlike in afterlife. Bait dog with tailtip in its face. Look straight with your unweeping eye. Unblink at fidget human gaze. Manhattan's numbered dawns and days Light human and unhuman ways.

Mathilde, Tonto, Kirsten, Mark Still move here in the light and dark. When I lie down, confused, to die, May some unsimpering cat come by To calm me with his touch and murmur, To care and not to care, a brother. A SPELL FROM BRIGHT ANGEL CANYON This is the spell: Words to one us. Signs to sight us. Dreams to wake us. Listen, Kirsten. Kirsten, listen. I'm speaking through the sky, Sky where sea was, sea where stone was, Still sky and sliding sky, Still sea and sliding sea, Still stone and sliding stone, Still speech and sliding speech,

Words you, Words eyes, Words eyes, Words

to cut you, words to paint to look outside with flat to look inside with round to one us.

Look, Kirsten. Kirsten, look. I'm shining through the sea, Wet where dry was, sea where sky was, Still, sliding, tidal sky. These flags are made with broken mountains. These signs are made with prints in stone, Bright eyes of snakes and angels' dark eyes, Signs to cut you, signs to paint you, Metamorphic signs to jewel you, Signs to cystallize our sleep's design, Signs to sight us. Sleep, Kirsten. Kirsten, sleep. I'm turning symbols through the

stone, Still, sliding, lullabying, Rio Colorado stone. I imagine light and dark, Stille nacht, Walpurgisnacht, Satanic night, Bright Angel night, Demonic days, angelic days, Chiaroscuro, Colorado days And days of seeing straight, dynamic days. I magic dreams to still our mind And dreams to wake us. This is the spell: Words to one us. Signs to sight us. Dreams to wake us.

PLUMCAKE "I value the physical sensation of sexual intercourse about as highly as I value a piece of plumcake" - Shaw in a letter which I gave my

mother-in-law. I will not meditate on sex, I'll meditate on something serious: 'Plumcake's' the thing in anglo-sax. 'Pflaumkuchen' makes it sound mysterious. If you are sick in life or love And love's untruths are hard to take, Book Gerti for a belly rub Or better still a piece of cake. Her cake's a better bet than sex. Its sultry scent seduced my nose. I tasted pflaumen and I went To places you don't want to know. Some sing of Sachertorte's charms And Belgian chocs for melting hearts, But give me Kirsten in my arms And Gerti Hauschildt's fruity tart. I won't compare one with the other, The sensual cake made by the

mother, The daughter's fruity love-baked kisses. My soulfood isn't GBS's. So, Gerti, here's a yellow letter. Shaw's brain still fizzes on the sheet. It's lightly given. please remember Free spirits have their cake and eat it. (Or have the courage to throw it away). ANIMALS Spiders, snakes, dry-humoured bats, Octopussies, even cats; Mark and Kirsten dig these critters. Bats with batty ears and whiskers, Spiders orchestrating webs Everywhere with eyes and legs, Snakes the poison jewels of life, Cats-the fat that scratch and bite,

The thin-the cat that walks alone, The thinlyfatcat danger prone. Octopussies, muscly boys, Are passive, active, paranoid. An octokiss or lippysuction Is a kind of fat reduction. And if you want an octohickey Tender suckers splotch you quickly. Octos, pussies, bats, snakes, spiders; Mark and Kirsten dig these critters, But man which names himself the wiseIt can be hard to like these guys. ANNIVERSARY 22 June 2000 A year of you a year of me Until our uneternity. Unbound and bounded, bound and free, We are the same deliberately. It changes and it stays the same, A ceremony and a game, A crystal in the entropy,

The will of you the will of me. You know me and are known by me And own me and are owned by me. Be still. Recall you married me By drifting sand and drifting sea. Two rings will ring us two in one, A symbol, but a simple one. Speak simply when you speak my name. Love changes and it stays the same.

PRESENT 10 Dec 2002 My simple present to my chosen bride As we decide to act out chosen lives Is a thought experiment to set aside Resentment by defining where it lies. Define a line. Call it ‘now’.

Define our hurt and love on either side. Give love alone the transcendental power Of moving back and forth. Let hurt abide. The line divides what’s been and is to be, Which make a mental dance with what is now, So in this psycho-choreography Old damage is delineated out. Why do this? To choose the thing I am And turn our wounded steps to loving dance. HAPPY BIRTHDAY 10 Dec 2004 Happy birthday, social worker wife, Still married by the skin of your sharp teeth. I knew you'd be a trouble and a strife, But Good Grief! or just delete the 'good' and grieve.

"You can't be intimate. Our life's a living death. Love me my cat, my dog and Christmas schlock. I need another dog, another baby and no sex, And love my plants and love their fucking pots. My hurt collection's incomplete until In Therapese you break down and confess To issues of control and feel your guilt, And, English twat, you're sexually repressed." Once and future wife, here's the bottom line : Self definition is divine, so self define. 39. ON LOCATION Down mean Manhattan's streets I

sauntered Into a girl with size 10 feet. Appropriately Attired it flaunted Its credibility in the street. Hair-Steven G, white pants, white top; West 10, pm, NY, NY. Manhattan woman in its pomp And image-poacher,little I. My Canon's crosswires stroked its face. The autofocus hummed and whirred, But with a meaning moan this Grace Stared and glared and hissed these words: "Please stick your tripod where it hurts. Keep trucking, mister, cease to bug me. Some day I'll drool about your work. Today the camera doesn't love me.

My picture's mine not yours to take. I'm just not in the mood for smiling. My hair's not soigne' or my face. My feet aren't copasetic either." It made a face to make me stone. It snarled and spat and clicked its teeth. I shut my eyes and snapped this Gorgon. I stole the face but missed the feet. What's this to do with Gerti's birthday ? Not much, except to make you laugh. Teach Kirsten more snaphappy ways And make her safe to photograph. ONTOGENY RECAPITULATES PHYLOGENY to my unborn child 10 Dec 2000 Piscis, avis, chimpanzee, As DNA is debonair Insouciantly swim in air

To you, but on the way to you is me. What will I to you ? This above all: Let me be true to me in you And you to your own self be true, Then we cannot be false. English, Jewish, German, American cells, Deoxyribonucleic tides Sedately twine and gently slide Till starstuff turn angelic in our girl.

KIRSTEN'S BIRTHDAYS 10 Dec 98 On my 1st birthday I was naught Is what they thought. At 1 I wailed,my legs grew long, My will grew strong. At 2 I grew. At 3 I grew. At 4 I knew I was a girl. At 5 I had a memory, a history,a ponytail. At 6 I saw sex is a bore. Then 7 came and I forgot.

Pflaumkuchen kicked in strong at 8 And after that I grew a lot. My hair was summer-white at 9, My skin was summer fair. I swam in leafy lakes at 10, I ran in leafy air. 11 made me self-aware, My reproductive power was there. 12 brought self-love, 13 self-hate. The years will now accelerate And 20 birthdays more have come. At 33 I'm growing young. I swim again in leafy lakes And go again in leafy air With my lover who delights To look upon my yellow hair. My lover wishes this for me In 20 years I'll younger be. He wishes this for me and him In leafy lakes we'll always swim.

FLYING TO AUSTRALIA 10 Dec 99 Here it is - a flying kiss

With nearly supersonic lips, A jumbo splat, mid-air attack To make your flying arms go flap. Between Australia and UK Your birthday vapourised today. It vanished in the sky behind 10 December 99. Your present disappeared as well, So here's a rock from Hotazel, A Kalahari healing stone, 2 billion birthdays underground. So if your bones ache in the dark, Remember rock, remember Mark. Hip hip hooray for Wesselite 3 cheers for me that you're my wife.

PRESENTS 25 Dec 98 Bless these little cotton socks. May they save your feet from shocks.

May they save your feet from pounding On the paving stones of London. May they make you blithely walk On the sidewalks of New York. When the wind would bite your toes, Crossing Tower or Brooklyn bridges, Never fear how cold it blows Because I lined these socks with kisses. Bless these Japanese binox. May they zoom where eyesight stops And eyeball alligators' eyes. May splashing dolphins make you blink. Be beamed high up by this device To lunar seas and Saturn's rings. But when you put away these lenses Look to see who looks at you. See in my face the evidences Of sea and sky and stone.

COSTA RICA A New Jersey girl loved her toes so She waggled her foot-fruit a-go-go. From the side of a boat in the jungle They dangled. Alas, she had bungled. Croc teeth left one little toe solo. ECL Experience Compression Laboratorium they fuck you up your mum and dad they may not mean to but they do they give you all the faults they had and add some extra just for you but they were fucked up in their turn by fools in old style hats and coats who half the time were soppy-stern and half at one anothers throats man hands on misery to man it deepens like a costal shelf

so get out quickly while you can and dont have any kids yourself. philip larkin it fucks you up your sexual drive you know it will it always does it gives you all its sleepless nights and adds some nightmares just for fun Ersatz & Satzer arent for real but Minipix and anal probes will take us to a better deal it hurts at first but later glows the sharks are circcling all around white-tips, great whites,hammerheads. the hammerheads are winning now but Minipix will get ahead all around us in the sea theres photoluminosity if you think thats obscurity go swim at night at half past three

they call them needs theyre really wants me-me me-me me-me me-me de-dum de-dum de-dum de-dum and so on to infinity but dont devalue words with slush keep them polished up and sharp some day youll need words without mush to stick them in some others heart

ECL, Direct Report, betty,craig,dawn,greg and scott water words and whisky words on one hours sleep dont mean a lot.

WIP/SCRAPS MARK and MARION She has tarried to be married And been skittish to be British

We hope she’s chuffened to be Uffened BECAUSE IT’S TOO LATE NOW. God the father keep my grace from harm She sholuld be cradled in your arms and mine She should be guarded by our wedding charms Held blithe between her mother’s arms and mine. Her mother hates me.’you should be ashamed. You don’t support my social work degree.’ A devil laughs, a twisted truth takes aim To kill what’s true in her and true in me. Marriage is a symbol and a thing Which is our child and grace the child of it To break the symbol, break the wedding ring ‘till death us part’ sounds like a piece of shit.

You will renew. I will renew. Grace will renew. What we killed will not renew. Still be still.stand where I stand. Spells turn out inert and magic moves to grace and sylvie. Wedding bands Symbolize just words which are unproved Things change. I don’t revoke my words But I can see the flux Tho promises are meat for magpies and You’re married to me while it suits you and The language of relationships is bland And promises are solid as the sand Still be still, stand where I stand. Alice, here’s a phrase of health To summon up your father’s help

To bar the lying smile of hell A spell to bring your father and an angel. This is the spell : defend me by Discriminating dark and light Stand on my left and on my right Eliminating lies with light. Alice, here’s a way to write : Cut words sharp. Tie them tight Unlatin,anglo-greekified uncute acute and dark and light Alice, here’s a way to speak: Playful, artful, free not cheap meandering to what you mean By winding ways to clarify Unlatinate and anglo-greek. Alice, here’s a way to think Self-absent, right-attentive things dissolved invisibly in ink which leaves a stain but not a stink Way to dream Way to live

Ethics I do not know and do not care if right and wrong are absolute Or tangible like earth and air The same applies to lies and truth The same applies to beauty too Ivan’s xtc ‘I wish mother was here’ ‘ but she isnt here she’s dead’ Then in Ivan’s face her death crosses his dying. Appearance disappears. He stands outside the world. Appearance disappears. Make Make fire Make me Make Make

me a road. Make me awire. me the fuse that transmits me a thing unmakeme from me make me free from me me make me free

The horrors men devise for other souls

So many so banal and so grotesque I pray laboratory rats will meet again The mind that bent their mind and bled their brain And will devise an elegant revenge To watch into eternity himself defile the rat Prayer for new york The devil crossed the ocean.. Sand island The eurasian plate is drifting north Schiermonnikoog is drifting east We move as drift on drift For sean and daniella in namibia We wandered in air and wandered in dunes And a rocodile river beneath a ghost moon Giant herons and snakebirds watched as we went To etosha sossusvlei fish river and

then Orange river and norechab south from the north And back in a circle, Daniella and Sean, When you travel alone or you travel together May your journey be charmed on the road to each other. kirsten angela boneybutt's a honey but her buckle abuts her hip and not her belly button inappropriate attire around Manhattan It isn't it's a case of mutton dressed as lamb. I'm only fuss'n Cos boneybutt is smooth as butter And needs no slutty tricks to love her anyhoot, companion mine take this Companion to the Mind to celebrate your presentation in social working's comfort station to those within their comfort zone of intellectual disgrace and some.

i hope you knocked their smelly socks off while I wrote this to get my rocks off. Sylvie angela, sylvie angela, English trees are whispering your name Sylvie angela, sylvie angela To make you smile for our delight’s their game Hunku khola, bamboo hotel Mud mud spurious mud Mum, let’s not speak of you and me We know about our frailty Let’s talk about serenity Abandonment will bring Knees are not particular until a tipping point occurs and then our flexible and knobbly friends get ill flip back to front, rotate or bend with ghastly bulges, gruesome

twists The moral isn't special pleading placate the god of knees with gifts and here's the rub - knees need kneading. 22 June 2005 Wife, we've come to where we are. Did you think we'd get this far ? Maybe there's a lucky star Winked when we were wed. Trouble and strife, we got a life Together as a man and wife, Two monsters in our little tribe Bouncing on our bed. Mrs me, i never guessed How bloody awful and how blessed We'd be together. some tough test For the emotionally incorrect So, serpent mine, you're looking swell On hissy fits and spitting. Hell,

Snake charming with bright angel spells Takes more love than dread. 10 dec 2005 goodbye 2005 hello what's left of life goodbye sprinkles hello wrinkles goodbye shenanigans hello quadragenarians goodbye pheromones hello senior moments goodbye cigarettes hello senior sex goodbye 39 hello slow decline goodbye 39 hello goodbye

goodbye the life when you were bad 40 is so old it's sad the wrinklies and the crumblies beckon and soon the zombies too I reckon still teasing keeps you young at heart your elderly admirer, Mark

February 14, 2007 His funny Valentine April's not the cruellest month. It's February's phony signs Of love by numbers, love for lunch, Need setting where the sun don't shine. 'Men are fools' a wise man said And women know it to their toes, And that's ok, as in his head She's fed his ego to the crows.

His funny kind of Valentine Discards him every other month. He buys her stuff to buy him time, But time and stuff are not enough. It's a funny kind of Valentine To mislocate a wedding ring 'It isn't lost but do you mind Replacing that symbolic thing?' Then kiss the cobra's head. She smiles At knowledge oh so serpentine. He's snakebit and he's in denial Of his funny kind of Valentine. True minds may one day wed again, That tricked themselves like fools of Time, But better not to hold his breath To hold his funny Valentine.

It makes no sense she's still around, It makes no sense he's still supine, But nonsense makes the world go round. Funny ... she's his Valentine. 22 June 2005 well, wife of mine, we're where we are but did you think we'd get this far ? maybe there was a lucky star winked when we were wed well, trouble and strife, we got a life together as a man and wife 2 monsters in our little tribe to bounce upon our bed well, mrs mark, i never guessed how bloody awful and how blessed we'd be together. some tough test

for the emotionally incorrect so, serpent mine, you're looking swell you hiss and spit a bit,oh well, your man will cast bright angel spells with far more love than dread